“Samuel Avery.”
“Where is he?”
Grace's face changed.
Calvin noticed.
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
His expression hardened.
“Grace.”
“I don't know what happened to him.”
“When?”
“Three weeks after we began copying records.”
“Did Hargrove know?”
“I think so.”
“Why?”
Grace looked toward the floor.
“Because he called me into his office.”
“What did he say?”
“He knew I had been asking workers questions.”
“He accused me of stealing.”
“Then?”
“He told me women like me should be grateful anyone employed us at all.”
Calvin's eyes hardened.
Grace smiled bitterly.
“He said no respectable man would ever marry a woman who caused trouble.”
Calvin looked toward her.
“Idiot.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“The man was an idiot.”
Grace almost laughed.
“He threatened you?”
“Not directly.”
“What did he say?”
“If I continued causing trouble, I would ‘learn what it means to lose more than wages.’”
Calvin became completely still.
Grace noticed his hands.
Fists.
She touched one.
“Don't.”
“What?”
“Get angry.”
“I’m already angry.”
“Calvin.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“No.”
“Did he follow you?”
“I don't know.”
“Grace.”
“I don't.”
She took a breath.
“That week, someone entered my room while I worked.”
“Nothing valuable was taken.”
“But the floorboards had been pulled up.”
“They were looking for the copies.”
Calvin looked toward the papers.
“You had them?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Grace almost smiled.
“Inside the mattress.”
Calvin shook his head slowly.
“Then?”
“I left.”
“Immediately?”
“Two days later.”
“Why wait?”
“I had to get Mother's photograph.”
“And your letters.”
Grace looked at him.
“Yes.”
“You already had my advertisement?”
“Yes.”
Calvin had placed a notice through a matrimonial service six months earlier.
Wyoming carpenter and small rancher, thirty-six, seeking practical wife willing to build quiet home. No fortune promised. Honest partnership offered.
Grace had laughed when she first read it.
Then cried.
Not because it was romantic.
Because of the final line.
Past hardship no disqualification. Truth and kindness expected in both directions.
She answered.
Calvin wrote back.
Then again.
For four months they exchanged letters.
Grace never told him about Hargrove.
She told him only that she worked in textiles.
That her parents were deceased.
That Boston no longer felt like home.
Calvin had asked whether she would consider Wyoming.
Grace eventually said yes.
By then she was already afraid.
The marriage advertisement became escape.
That shame followed her west.
“I used you.”
The words came out before she intended them.
Calvin frowned.
“What?”
“I used you.”
“How?”
“To leave Boston.”
“You agreed to marry me.”
“Yes.”
“And married me.”
“Yes.”
“Do you plan to leave?”
Grace looked shocked.
“No.”
“Then I’m unclear on the crime.”
She stared.
“Calvin.”
He stood.
Grace followed.
“I answered your advertisement because I was frightened.”
“So?”
“You thought I wanted you.”
He looked at her.
“Did you not?”
The question silenced her.
Grace thought of his letters.
How she waited for them.
How she reread each line until the paper softened at the folds.
How her hands shook the first time she saw him waiting at the stage station.
Tall.
Nervous.
Hat in both hands.
He had looked at her and smiled.
Not disappointed.
Not surprised.
Simply relieved.
She whispered:
“I did.”
Calvin stepped closer.
“Then stop deciding for me what your reason means.”
Grace stared.
“You were frightened.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted to leave.”
“Yes.”
“You also chose me.”
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“Those things can both be true.”
Grace looked away.
Calvin took the papers.
“Why keep these?”
“Because they prove what happened.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“I don't know.”
“Send them to the attorney?”
“That was the plan.”
“Why didn't you?”
“I was afraid letters could be intercepted.”
“Then take them somewhere yourself.”
“Where?”
“Cheyenne.”
Grace frowned.
“There are federal offices.”
“Lawyers.”
“Newspapers.”
She stared.
“You would help me?”
Calvin looked almost offended.
“You thought I’d burn them?”
“I thought you might tell me to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because trouble may follow.”
Calvin stepped closer.
“Grace.”
“Yes.”
“This ranch already has coyotes, drought, broken fences, unpaid feed bills, and a rooster that tries to kill me every morning.”
She blinked.
He continued.
“I can survive a textile owner in Boston.”
Grace laughed through tears.
Calvin smiled.
Then became serious.
“But no more secrets that concern your safety.”
Her smile faded.
“Agreed.”
“Even if you're embarrassed.”
“Yes.”
“Even if you think I’ll judge you.”
“Yes.”
“Even if it involves dresses.”
Grace looked down at the tear.
“Oh.”
Calvin looked too.
The original disaster returned.
“My dress.”
He smiled.
“What?”
“Come with me.”
Grace frowned.
“Where?”
“Barn.”
“I cannot go outside like this.”
“Why?”
“My petticoat is showing.”
Calvin looked toward the tear.
His ears reddened again.
Grace noticed.
“You were doing so well.”
“I am still doing well.”
“You're staring.”
“I looked once.”
“Twice.”
“Grace.”
She smiled.
Calvin grabbed an old blanket from the bed.
Wrapped it around her waist.
“There.”
She stared.
“You're taking me to the barn wearing a blanket?”
“Yes.”
“This marriage is rapidly losing dignity.”
“Wait until you meet the rooster.”
They crossed the yard.
Grace held the blanket around herself.
Calvin walked ahead carrying the cedar boards he had brought into the cabin.
The barn smelled of hay and fresh-cut wood.
At the far end stood something covered by a canvas sheet.
Grace stopped.
“What is that?”
Calvin looked suddenly nervous.
“The reason I came home early.”
She stared.
He walked to the canvas.
Pulled it away.
Grace covered her mouth.
A large cedar wardrobe stood against the wall.
Not finished.
One door still needed hinges.
Drawers incomplete.
But unmistakably beautiful.
Hand-planed boards.
Smooth corners.
Small carved flowers along the top.
Grace approached slowly.
“You made this?”
“Making.”
“For what?”
Calvin looked confused.
“For you.”
Her eyes filled again.
He panicked.
“Not again.”
Grace laughed.
“Calvin.”
“I don't understand why furniture makes you cry.”
She touched the cedar.
“There is nothing to put inside.”
Calvin stared at the empty wardrobe.
Then at her.
“Not yet.”
Grace looked toward him.
He continued.
“I thought we'd go to town after the harvest.”
“For what?”
“Cloth.”
She blinked.